By morning, the landing officers knew the Gull’s name, registration, declared cargo and destination.
They wanted to know why any of it was here.
Lyra stood beside the rail while the signal clerk aboard read back the tower’s request. The repeated exchange had acquired the patient hostility of people determined not to be the first to lose their temper.
Drake kept the hull outside the line.
She sent the certified destination code again, with the date of its recovery and the office which had witnessed their copies.
The tower asked who commanded.
“Drake,” she said.
The clerk hesitated.
